AN; 2011_02_03 - Caught a few errors while I was looking through chapters for inspiration for chapter 3, and I decided to fix them since they were so annoying.

The Death Note 2

Pages: | First

Entry Name: | Voices

My mother and father were in New York for some 'detective' work. I think it's true, the detective part, but those big, worldwide cases they say they're in, probably not.

I mean, the fact that they came home every day, except for like once a month.

And I have a little brother, too. He's twelve years old, so my mom didn't want him to stay with Aunt Anna, something about 'ruining his childhood.'

But she never said that about me.

Only three years ago, when I was eleven, she and dad, and Frank went to Washington, left me with Anna.

But, whatever, without that, I wouldn't as smart as I am, I'd probably be as naïve as a little girl following a stranger because he had candy.

Nagareru toki no naka matataku setsunateki kirameki wo

Kono yo no kioku ni kizamu tame arukitsudzukeru Believer

[In the flowing time a momentary sparkle twinkles

I keep walking to engrave the world's memories, a believer

Death Note: Alumina © NightMare]

I picked up my phone. "Hey, Dad."

"Hi, Jenny."

"How's New York?" I said. "Are you guys wrapping up the case?"

"New York's great. Your mom's happy with all the stores, and same with your brother." he paused. "...Your aunt wanted me to tell you something."

"...about what?" Oh god, don't tell me…

"The case; since it's taking so long, that we should stay for another year."

"What...? What about me?" I yelled. I balled my hands up into fists, clenching the end of my shirt.

It seemed like he ignored me, "Yeah, your aunt will be taking care of you, you'll be fine."

Peeved, I hung up, and jumped into my bed. My head ached, and badly, "...this really, really sucks."

Anna yelled from downstairs, "JENNY!" I flinched. "Go get me some stuff at the Super Market!"

"It's the weekend!" I groaned.

"EXACTLY!"

| I |

"...stupid Anna." I muttered, carrying a bagful of fruit and chips.

As I walked across the street, I notice a man harassing a old woman.

"—Stop, stop it!" she screamed.

"Gimme your purse, lady!" he yelled, and finally got it. "Or I ain't the awesome Tim Brighton!"

She fell, and started to call for help. But there's no point in that. This was the kind of town where no one cared, and only cared about themselves. So why am I doing this? "...T...tim... Bright...ton." I wrote. "...death cause; ...car accident."

You may ask me why, car accident once again? I don't know, I'm not gonna pull a full Kira and do heart attacks so constantly. I should use this Note to the full effect, correct? (Rhyme wasn't on purpose.)

Making his 'escape,' Brighton jaywalked, and here it comes, "AHH!"

As I heard the police sirens, I stuffed the notebook back into my bag. A breath like a puffing sigh came from my throat.

| II |

"Hey, I got the stuff!" I exclaimed, placing the grocery bag on the table, hands back into my jacket pockets.

Anna smiled gratefully, "Awesome. I'm going to pack your lunch tomorrow for your art class!" She began to take the items out of the plastic bag.

"...no thanks, I still have money in my backpack."

"What? No ham-and-cheese with lettuce and tomato like you like?"

"Nah. Tomorrow's free-pizza-because-you're-all-artists day," I said, biting into a caramel apple I had bought for myself.

"No sweets before bed!" she scolded.

I blinked without emotion. It's only seven o'clock anyways. "Whatever." I climbed up the stairs. "I'll be in my room!"

The door clicked shut; I sat on my bed, taking the black notebook out.

I rested my back to the wall, staring at it. "...you're not so bad, are you, Death Note?"

I almost laughed to myself, talking to a freakin' notebook from the 'depths of hell' some called on the news. But then again, some praised and worshipped it, and 'Kira.'

"...I see you're enjoying the notebook." I jumped, chills running up and down my spine.

"What the—" I gasped. "Oh...? You can't see me? I suppose that they did make that new rule."

"Wha—Who are you?" I said, scanning the room.

"I am a shinigami, or god of death, as you may call it. But apparently, I'm invisible to you, though I can see you," her voice said.

"...shinigami...god of death." I remembered it in the rules, 'how to use.'

"You don't seem as scared or surprised anymore. My name is Yuka, that's my Death Note; you have in your hand."

I held it up to vision. I had forgotten I was holding it. "R-Right..." Though I still feel goose bumps all over my skin.

"I can't take it back, now that it's in your world, in your possession." Yuka says. "Well, anyhow, this thing where I have to watch you until the Death Note is completed, or you die and I pick it up again, but you will be dead in the end."

I pause, and stand. "...how many of the rules are real?"

"...my, my. How perspective of someone so young? Thirteen or so in human years, right?"

"...Fourteen; but you should answer my question." I stood my ground, trying to build up enough strength.

"But I have to say that you should find out for yourself, intelligent human."

There was some silence, and then I finally said, "...I want to be 'Kira' the second."

"That reminds of Ryukku, he's the one who dropped his Death Note, and the human, Light Yagami picked it up."

Beads of sweat ran down my forehead from the panic, "Right. But, Yuka, if I return my Death Note, I won't die because of you, right?"

"I'm not so sure, would you like to try and see what happens?" She mused, getting a joke out of this matter.

I pause and think in my own world for a couple seconds. Is that a chance I should take? Either way, I'm going to die one day. Should I see what will happen? Let this 'game' of sorts go on for a while?

Yuka doesn't move or even blink.

"… maybe I'll try that at a later time, yes," something similar to a smile comes to my face, a twisted smile.

"I see. Well, have at you with this game, girl. You will see what comes." I think I'm supposed to know what that means. But I don't really ponder on it. Life will go and things will happen. I can't control much but deaths of people.

What if those deaths were meant to happen, but it was just made to happen through my hands? Who knows… Believe what you will believe, and I will believe what I am to believe.

"You will eventually write more and more names into the Death Note," I could see the ghost of a smile on her face. "You'll be tempted to."

That's right. I haven't written more than two names in this thing yet, and it's been two days. I wonder. Am I just not interested in this thing? Am I scared? What is it that I haven't killed pages and pages of people yet?

I don't control death. Sometimes I do feel some people need to die, but –

I heard my ringtone go off and I pick up my phone casually – But as if a shinigami would care – "Hello?"

"Hello," it was my mom's voice. "Hi, honey, uhh, about earlier, I'm really sorry. We're just doing our job."

I had nearly forgotten about that crap. "Yeah. Well I know. It's alright…" I don't know what I'm saying.

"We'll try to come and visit, so don't be too down."

"Yeah. I know."

"Okay. Love you, bye."

As of course they would call just to say that little bit. But right now I can't think about that, nor do I care for the moment. I've got other stuff on my plate.

But it's something I can't begin to imagine.